Sunday, March 9, 2014

When the Boy Made Me

When the Boy Made Me

by: M. MacMinn

We grew empty with careless concern
a buzz at night and searching

We walked to far, to far to return
tired and lost, tired and wandering

With a wayward stretch, singing dust in the wind

Learning the present, passing through days

Only to be
the man that I am, when the boy made me

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